Big Brother Doesn't Always Know Best
by DeHaanedToDeath
Summary: Dean can't take the pain of knowing everyone he loves dies. He just wants to protect Bobby and Sammy. Trigger Warning. Completed. No sequel coming. Just a one shot.


Dean slammed his fists on the wall and let out a yell. He hated this. He hated this fucking day. Sam wasn't old enough to remember. But he did. He remembered looking up and seeing his Mother burning on the fucking ceiling. It was always so painful and he didn't know why. He barely remembered her. He didn't _want_ to remember her. Not in that way. Not dead with a look of horror on his face. He let out another yell which turned into a sob. Which turned into more sobs. He considered himself lucky. Bobby and Sammy had gone out to get food and the nearest town was a half hour away. He would be alone for about an hour and a half. He could get this out of his system before anyone knew.

Dean headed to the bathroom, dragging his feet. Why did everyone keep dying? Everyone he loved. Everyone that loved him. What would happened when it happened to Bobby. Or Sammy? Dear God, what if Sammy got hurt? He wouldn't be able to bear that. That was his last straw. He delved through the toiletries bag he had and his fingers closed around the cold metal blade sitting there. He tugged it out and shrugged his jacket off. Rolling his sleeve up, he choose his forearm. Pressing the cold metal to his skin, he pushed down and slid his hand across quickly. The sting caused him to choke. To hesitate. He closed his eyes with a soft groan before they flickered back open. He stared at the blood before making three more cuts. One for his Father, one for his Mother. One for Bobby and one for Sammy. He chucked the blade back in his bag before clearing up and going to get a bandage. He could easily claim that it had happened when facing some weird fucking creature. He tried to keep his wounds hidden from Sammy. Didn't want his little brother to worry.

Dean finished bandaging his arm and went to get his jacket. He went to the living room and curled up in his jacket. Slipping onto the windowsill, his gaze fell out of the window, just staring. Thoughts ran through his head. He couldn't help but feel like maybe it was his fault everyone was dying. Maybe if _he_died, maybe if _he_ was the one buried, maybe Sammy would be safe. The sick plan started hatching in Dean's head and he wanted to punch something. How could he even _consider_leaving Sammy behind? How could he even think about how nice it would be to slip into a black abyss and end this pain? This life that wasn't his. This life that had everyone stolen away.

To his dismay, Dean realised he was crying. To his horror, Dean realised he was contemplating taking his own life. No. He refused to. Sammy needed him. _But Sammy had Bobby._ Dean didn't _need_to be here. He looked around the shitty abandoned house they were staying in and rose. Paper. He needed paper. He needed to apologise. He had to do this. Damn it, even Cas had died because of him. An _angel_ had died because of him. He threw things around, just looking for some paper. He couldn't find anything. He let out a screech before collapsing on the dust covered sofa. He held his face and let out a few sobs before he remembered. His phone had notes. Leave it unlocked on the note with no pass code and put it on Bobby's bag. Ingenious.

..

_Bobby._

Please don't even try to save me. This is it for me. This is my time. I can't keep fighting everyday pretending to be strong for Sammy. I just can't. I've reached the end of my tether. And I feel like crap.

It's my fault they all died. Mom. Dad. Cas. What happens when it's you or Sammy? How the fuck am I going to be able to deal with Sammy being shoved in a cold hole in the ground?

I need you to look after Sammy for me, Bobby. Swear on my grave you will. Get him **_out_**_ of the hunter business. He deserves a normal life. And stop yourself. Find a house and move in with him. Be a family because dammit you can't do that with me here. I'm a liability._

Look, please don't let Sammy find me. I'll be in the bathroom. Don't let him see me. This will kill him. I don't want him doing the same thinking it's alright because his big brother did it. I can't handle watching him ending his life. Swear on my grave Bobby.

I need to go. You'll be back soon and I'd rather be too far gone by the time you get back.

I'm sorry, Bobby, but this will be better for everyone.

Dean.

..

Dean turned his pass code off and headed to the kitchen, placing his phone on top of Bobby's bag, making sure it was fairly obvious before heading back to the bathroom. He got his blade back out and stared at his wrists for what seemed what like an eternity. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the blade into his wrist and, with a pained sob, tugging the blade back, watching the horizontal cut bleed. The pain threw him off and he yelled in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. He needed to move quickly before he fainted from blood loss. He swapped hands, dropping the blade from the blood on his hands. Cursing, he managed to pick it back up before digging it into his other wrist and leaning back. Blood pooled around his wrists, decorating the already stained tiles. Everything was getting cloudy, dark. Comforting.

Noises faded back into Dean's consciousness. Talking. Shuffling around. Laughing. Sammy and Bobby were back. Dean could hear his little brother calling his name. He was too weak to do anything. He couldn't even move his head. He couldn't open his eyes. Footsteps up the stairs. His name was louder. Then, it came. Bobby's fearful voice nearly screaming Sam to come back downstairs. Footsteps running. Yelling.

"NO SAM DONT GO IN THERE!"

Screaming.

Blackness.


End file.
